


Sober

by polotiz



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: But it's all happy, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Totally not telling you, fluff with a twist, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 10:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24349624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polotiz/pseuds/polotiz
Summary: They had been in such a hurry. Between chasing the loom, being chased by the fates, and then zombies, and then time itself, there hadn’t been too many moments of calm, of pause.Sara never thought she would have craved the stillness as much as she had.And now, seated at a firepit on the shore of a lake somewhere in the middle of Connecticut, fingers warm and tangled with Ava’s, shoulder to shoulder as the soft light from the house behind them spills only slightly into the flickering flame, she feels moreherselfthan ever.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Comments: 19
Kudos: 153





	Sober

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaptainPantsuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainPantsuit/gifts).



> Answer to CaptainPantsuit's prompt "Things You Said after you Kissed Me"  
> Thanks for the challenge :)

They had been in such a _hurry._ Between chasing the loom, being chased by the fates, and then zombies, and then time itself, there hadn’t been too many moments of calm, of pause.

Sara never thought she would have craved the stillness as much as she had.

And now, seated at a firepit on the shore of a lake somewhere in the middle of Connecticut, fingers warm and tangled with Ava’s, shoulder to shoulder as the soft light from the house behind them spills only slightly into the flickering flame, she feels more herself than ever.

The rest of the Legends had moved back inside almost an hour ago, the exodus so coordinated Sara still suspects Zari had a hand in it, especially given the throw-away comment she had made about how little time Sara and Ava had had together, _only_ together, since this shit show started.

Now… now she has her sight back, her team back, and Ava-

Sara finds the wistful smile on her lips at the same time as Ava does, feels Ava move away just far enough turn her head fully.

“What’re you thinking, babe?”

Sara lets the soft cadence of Ava’s voice melt slowly into the cracks of her soul – what few are left these days – surprised when her eyes close and chest expands involuntarily. A gentle hand brushes the strands of Sara’s hair behind her left ear, thumb lingering a moment by her temple.

Sara’s smile grows. Over time, Ava has learned to soothe Sara this way when her thoughts are spiralling; those rare occasions when even a time-travelling former assassin can’t keep it together.

“Hey-“

Ava’s hand slides away, down to Sara’s nape, fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they twist around the baby hairs at Sara’s hairline.

It’s Ava’s way of encouraging her to answer, but not to hurry.

Ava had once told Sara she wasn’t the person who could say the perfect thing, but Sara knows that Ava’s love language is spoken in so much more than words.

And Sara has never been found wanting.

“Just thinking...” She answers finally, opening her eyes to the shimmer of the moon’s reflection on the lake. “After… everything. It’s kinda nice to be able to stop for a while.”

She can see the soft smile on Ava’s face in her peripheral vision, and Ava squeezes her hand, the tactile answer at odds with the inevitable tease.

“I’m sorry?” She says. “-is this the same Sara Lance who first kissed me in the middle of a fight with a band of Pirates?”

“Pfft. That was over two years ago.” Sara answers, disguising the major implication of that minor detail by raising a smug eyebrow and turning towards Ava instead. “Besides, _you_ kissed _me_.”

“I did, huh?” Ava tilts her head. Her thumb grazes the edge of Sara’s jaw and she smirks. “Well, at least one of us had the guts to make the first move.”

“Are you forgetting who asked who out on a date first?”

Ava hums, her hand falling away, landing on Sara’s forearm as she interlinks the fingers of her other hand with Sara’s, gently twisting the ring on Sara’s middle finger like she always does, right before Sara goes – or does – something particularly dangerous – and gives it to Ava to wear.

Ava was wearing it when Sara died.

When Ava died trying to stop Sara dying.

_Over two years._

And in that time, Ava’s learned almost every nuance of Sara, and Sara’s existence has morphed into _their_ existence, and Sara realises, by a fire pit on the shore of some random lake in the middle of rural New England, how _right_ that feels.

The breeze changes direction, clouds of light smoke from the fire drifting between them, and Sara finds herself studying the way the warm glow of flame flickers in Ava’s eyes.

Two years.

How much has changed, how much has _she_ changed since then?

Sara knows she’s been staring, she sees it in the flash of self-consciousness on Ava’s features, in the way Ava bites her lip, squirms a little under her scrutiny.

“You’re staring.” She whispers.

Sara nods, but she’s too busy mapping the contours of Ava’s face to stop, because she’s also realised she hasn’t _yet_ become an expert on how moonlight looks Ava’s hair, how the cool of the night scatters her breath just so, how firelight dances on her skin.

And she is so, _completely_ in love with this woman.

“Just… you.” Sara answers, and tells herself the stinging behind her eyes is because of the smoke and not the sudden realisation that is threatening to overwhelm her.

“Sara?”

“Ava.” She runs her thumb over the back of Ava’s hand. “How sober are you on a scale of one to ten?”

Ava blinks, glances behind herself at the beer and wine bottles lined up behind them.

“Um… eight?” She answers. The truth was, they had all stopped drinking a while ago, and most of the empties belonged to Mick as it was. Ava looks back to Sara, confusion written all over her face. “Why, Sara?”

Sara takes a shaky breath. Looks down at their hands, presses her lips together and looks up again.

“I want the mattress, Ava.” She says. “With you. I want the mattress.”

She watches Ava’s expression shift slowly, and Sara knows the exact moment, when Ava’s brow raises, her lips part and tears well up in her eyes, before spilling silently down her cheeks, that she’s put two and two together.

“Sara…”

“I know-“ Sara cuts her off before Ava can continue, and her stomach somersaults with the sudden fear of _what if-_ “I know, it’s not what we talked about. Not what we-“

Sara’s silenced by the touch of fingers to her lips.

Then Ava’s kissing her.

She’s kissing Sara and her hands have released from Sara’s and are cradling her cheeks, so _gently_ , and Sara presses a hand to Ava’s chest and tangles her fingers in her hair, and the moon and the firelight disappears behind her closed eyelids and Sara’s only _feeling_ the night, and the fire, and the lake…. And when she slides her tongue over Ava’s, she swallows Ava’s soft whimper and drinks in the taste of smoke and wine and salt.

They move in sync, they always do, but this time there is no desperation, no rushing, no ‘last kiss before-‘ threats or impending doom. Ava’s fingers fist the collar of Sara’s jacket, and Sara’s leaning just that little bit too far in her chair but she doesn’t care.

Every moment she’s with Ava she’s stronger. She’s better, and she’s whole.

They break apart only far enough to breathe, air tangling between the two of them.

“I want the mattress too.” Ava whispers against Sara’s lips. “Always, yes.” And the word send tingles through Sara’s entire body.

She rests her forehead against Ava’s, twists the ring off her finger.

“Lifetime warranty?” She asks.

She feels Ava’s emphatic nod and opens her eyes to the miniscule space between them, where their hands are tangled again.

“ _Every_ lifetime.” The ring slides easily onto Ava’s finger, in just the right place to have always been there. “I love you in _every_ lifetime, Sara Lance.”

And Sara shifts just enough to brush her lips against Ava’s, softly, quietly.

A promise.

Like being reborn.

And _that_ is something Sara’s had more than a little experience with.

Being reborn, but better.

 _Whole_.

**Author's Note:**

> I may, or may not have taken inspiration from my proposal to my now-wife, which yes, happened over a fire pit and also involved the words "how sober are you on a scale of 1-10" because I'd taken her away to our favourite beach hotel for the weekend and had this meticulous plan to propose the next day but when it came to it I had the ring in my pocket the night we arrived and couldn't wait. ❤️
> 
> More than two years later I’m the Luckiest Woman Alive.
> 
> Come scream with me about these two on tumblr


End file.
